


Working Legs

by staringatademigod



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Disability, Disabled Character, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-14
Updated: 2017-03-14
Packaged: 2018-10-05 06:33:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 13,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10299800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/staringatademigod/pseuds/staringatademigod
Summary: What would happen if Barry got shot before the explosion?





	1. Chapter 1

*FLASHBACK*

 

It all happened on a late June night. Joe was out on a case when his foster son showed up, telling him it was too dangerous. Though he was told to stay in the police car, Barry disobeyed, running towards Joe. It happened in a blink of an eye; the criminal fired his gun at the older man and the bullets shot out as fast as lightning. The twenty four year old jumped in front of them, screaming in agony when the bullets entered his lower back.

“Barry!” Joe cried out, dropping to his knees next to where his son lay. Blood seeped through his plaid blue button down and his arm was twisted behind his back, his face scrunched in pain. In a matter of minutes, the boy was in the back seat of the police cruiser, passed out on the middle aged man.

When they got to the hospital, Joe carried his limp body in his arms, watching nurses scramble around for a stretcher. Joe placed his son on the hospital bed and the doctors rushed him through a set of double doors. They had to do surgery, which meant Joe couldn’t see him until it was over. So, he waited and waited and waited.

It took a long six hours for the surgery to end and another seven and a half for him to wake up. During that time, the doctors told Joe some heavy news. Due to where the bullet hit, his spine was shattered. Joe blocked out the rest of what they said. He just sat there; Iris came a half hour later, keeping her dad company.

The moment Barry batted his eyelashes, Joe and Iris were there, offering him water and another pillow. He smiled at Joe after the water in the plastic cup was gone, reaching a hand out; the wires move with him. “Joe, I told you it was too dangerous.” he coughed, chuckling at his foster father, who bit his lip, tears clouding in his eyes. Barry frowned, dropping his hand and gazing at Iris, whose eyes were also wet. “What’s wro-” Then he noticed something. His feet wouldn’t move, even though he was telling them to - in fact, his legs wouldn’t move. “No.” his voice cracked, “Guys, I can’t feel my legs.”

 

*PRESENT DAY*

 

Being in a wheelchair is a lot harder than Barry thought it would be. One would think the police department would have an automatic door, but no, the CCPD doesn’t. With one hand, Barry pulls the door open, wheeling his chair around to act like a door stop, elbow pushing the door further. As he holds the wood, his other hand moves the joystick, driving inside. “Stupid…doors.” he grumbles, sighing to himself.

He rolls around a group of kids, smiling at a few of them while the teacher talks, and gets to the elevator…only for it to be out of fucking service. Angry tears spring in his eyes but he glares at his lap so nobody will see. He needs the elevator to get to his lab to do his job! Don’t they know that? He thinks they should know that by now.

“Um, excuse me sir, do you work here?” you question timidly, clutching your clipboard to your chest. Your teeth dig into your red bottom lip as you peer around, keeping an eye on the group of thirteen children. “I’m supposed to be meeting Captain Singh…” you peek at your clipboard, “and Detective West and his partner, Detective Thwane? I guess it would help if I knew where to be.” you giggle, staring at the brown haired man, who’s in awe. “Shoot, you probably don’t wor-”

“No, no, I work here.” Barry smiles, showing his little clip on CSI name tag underneath his felt coat. “Barry Allen, forensic scientist, well, I would be, if I could get to my lab.” he jokes, nodding to the out of order sign. You part your lips, shuffling on your red polka dot heels. “Sorry, dark humor.” he waves his hand, chuckling awkwardly, “Um, I can show you to Joe- I mean, Detective West, sorry, he’s my foster father. I usually call him Joe…and why am I tell you all of this?” he trails off, shaking his head.

You giggle, covering your mouth with one of your fingers. “Oh, it’s okay- Kyle! Don’t pull Rachel’s backpack.” you say sternly, watching the small blond first grader slump his shoulders. A sigh leaves your lips and you slowly turn your attention to the handsome man, “So, you were saying?” you ask.

Barry’s long fingers curl around the black thin joystick, green avocado eyes gleaming brightly at you. He tries not to pay mind to your fitting ruby pencil skirt; he has always loved the color red, but now he is seeing it in a completely different perspective. “Right, right, Jo- I mean, Detective West, ahhh!” he hits his armrest, sighing, “He should be…” he mutters, rolling forward into the desk area, “Here. Hi Joe.” he says in a curt tone, lips twitching as if he wants to smile.

Quickly looking over your shoulder, you count the kids. Thirteen, good. The older man grins at the young man, “Hey Barr! Shouldn’t you be in the lab?” he mumbles in a silky voice, raising an eyebrow skeptically.

Barry glares, crossing his arms over his dark blue sweater. “Well, I should be, yes. But, the elevator is out of order, so unless you wanna carry me and my chair downstairs, I can’t really do anything.” he puffs out, biting the inside of his cheek, “Honestly, Joe - I’m sorry, give me a second -” he pleads at you; you nod reassuringly. “Honestly, Joe, how am I supposed to do my job if I can’t get to my lab?!” His hands wave around, finally setting on his neck, rubbing it.

“What do you want me to do, Barr? I’m not an electrician, son.” the detective sighs, scratching his temple, “I’ll…I don’t know, I’ll figure it out, okay? For now, you can help me set up Miss Y/L/N’s class.” he grins at you, standing up; you return the favor, “Captain Singh is out on a case, but, he should be back soon. Joe West.” He shakes your hand, “Is it okay if I talk to the kids; give ‘em a run down of what’s goin’ on?”

You nod your head, brushing your hair behind ear. “Of course! And, I’m Y/N Y/L/N, not that you…didn’t already know that. Obviously you know that; you were the one I talked to over the phone and you probably did a background ch- I’m going to stop talking now.” you mumble awkwardly, raising your pointer finger in the air while your other hand has the lime green clipboard in a death grip.

Chuckling, Detecti- Joe adjusts his white button down in his suit pants, peering at you then at his son. “Barry here would love to talk to you, wouldn’t you Barry?” he says briskly, walking towards the group of kids before he gets an answer. Curse him and his working legs…

Barry shifts in his wheelchair, grinning up at you awkwardly, “So…you’re a teacher?” You nod your head, hair falling in your eyes. “That’s nice. Hey, maybe you could teach me a lesson sometime!” he chuckles at his pun, stopping immediately after he notices the rosy blush on your cheeks as you bite your lip, eyes focused on the floor. His mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water. “Oh, oh god, I didn’t - I didn’t mean it like that! I meant maybe you could show me something new - nope, nope, that sounds worse. I…” Mayday, mayday, ship sinking.

Covering your blush, you glance over at Joe, giggling quietly. Is giggling good? Barry has no clue. Bending down slightly, you lean on his armrest; he looks at you with wide eyes and you gulp. “Sorry, it felt a bit rude talking down to you.” you explain, nibbling your bottom lipstick covered lip. He nods slowly, mouth ajar. “But, um, I know what you mean… Off the record though, I think… you are really adorable.” you say nervously, pecking his cheek.

Then you realize your mistake. Cupping your hands over your mouth, you stare wide-eyed at the bright red lipstick print now on his freckled cheek. “I’m so sorry!” you exclaim, voice muffled by your hands.

Barry shrugs, acting if he’s not freaking out inside. Be cool, Barry, be cool. Don’t do anything embarrassing. “It’s okay!” he squeaks. Squeaks. Come on. “No big deal - oh, look Captain Singh’s here!” he says in one breath, flashing a smile as he pulls his watch up to his face, hand landing on his joystick, “It was lovely meeting you, Y/N, have good day!” he grins, gulping, “Look at the time! I have to run! Ha, get it run? Joe, I’m leaving.” he mutters the last sentence as he passes by the man, keeping his head down.

He pushes the door open, huffing in frustration as he props it open with his elbow. Peering back, he sees you smile and…he feels like he’s going to throw up. Instead of butterflies in his stomach, it feels like a swarm of wasps, stinging him from the inside out. Pressing the joystick harder than he probably should, the wheelchair bolts outside.

Eddie walks by the chair, coffee in hand. He watches the wheelchair zoom towards the ramp on the side of the building. Bringing the file up, he uses it as a makeshift megaphone, “Hey, Barr, don’t you have work?!” he calls out, voice laced in confusion while his blond eyebrows scrunch together.

“Shut up, Eddie!” Barry hollers over his shoulder, not bothering to stop. Eddie shrugs, blinking down at his drink. What’d he miss when he was with Iris on break? Maybe Joe would fill the young detective in.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry makes a mees in his lab.

Barry has never hated himself more than he did at this moment. Test tubes are scattered around the lab and he can’t do anything except call for someone. Carefully, he maneuvers himself through the shards of glass, towards the phone hanging on the wall. He reaches up, snatching the slick black phone handle and holds it to his ear, aggressively dialing a number.

“Joe.” he breathes through gritted teeth, scrutinizing the trail of vibrant blue and green liquid on the concrete. Damn shelves. Who the fuck put his equipment up so high? “I made a mess.” Again, he thinks, nostrils blowing out hot air. “I made a fucking mess, Joe, and I can’t clean it up.” he seethes, his hold on the phone tightens, causing it to creak.

A long, drawn out sigh comes from the other end and there’s a shuffle of papers, making Barry flinch away from the earpiece. “I’ll get a mop!” Eddie’s voice echoes, sounding vaguely like Jack Frost from Santa Clause 3. Of course Eddie would be right there. Eddie’s always there to help him.

Joe watches the blond detective race around the office, trying to find a mop. A twitch of a smile might have teased his lips. Might. He shakes his head, rolling his wrist and putting the phone back to his ear. “Barr, you still there?” There’s a grunt of a ‘yes’; Eddie raises the newfound mop above his head, smiling while he points downstairs. Joe nods, sending the blond off. “Eddie’s on his way right now, Barr. It’s all good. Okay? Okay, I’m hanging up now. Okay, okay.” he sighs, hanging the phone up and slumping in his seat.

Barry hooks the head of the phone on the holder, folding his arms across his gray V-neck. In a few minutes, like his foster dad said, Eddie is there, slightly out of breath. His chest rises up, his plaid green button down stretching underneath his suit jacket as he beams at the scientist. “I’m here! I brought a mop! It’s okay!” He holds out the mop for emphasis; the thick dirty white strands sway in the air.

Nodding his head, Barry sends a tiny grin to him, watching the mop hit the floor with a thud. “Thanks, Eddie.”

“No problem, accidents happen, man.” he reassures, pushing the cleaning tool back and forth; Barry doesn’t know much about cleaning, but he’s fairly sure Eddie’s just spreading the liquid around instead of wiping it up. “How ‘bout you go clear your head, Barr? Go take a walk - those were a poor choice of words, I’m sorry.” he apologizes, cringing in on himself.

Barry waves the comment off, wheeling towards the elevator, “Yeah, I need a… drive, I guess. Thanks again, Eddie, I really appreciate it.” His long finger clicks the smooth round ‘up’ button and the elevator dings almost instantly, the shiny silver doors sliding to both sides. Nudging the joystick forward, his wheelchair spins into the ‘big metal death trap’ as the blond detective had once put it, Barry clicks the bottom floor, frowning while Eddie mops. The elevator doors close just as fast as they open, showing the main lobby.

His wheels screech against the polished marble floor when he heads to the double doors. Like every time, he flings the glass door, propping it open with his elbow while he speeds outside. Funny word; speeds. It reminds Barry of his superspeed; the superspeed he once had before the bullet entered his spine. He only had it for a couple hours and just like that, it was gone and so were his functioning legs.

Cool autumn air skids across his face as he drives through the busy streets. This is actually helping him. He focuses on the dry leaves dancing in the wind and for a second, just for a second, he feels ‘normal’. But that second ends when he realizes he’s not moving; his hand is pushing the joystick, but his chair’s not moving. Because it’s dead. Because Barry forgot to plug the damn thing in before he went to bed last night.

For the second time today, angry tears well in his grass green eyes. Slamming his fist on the foam armrest, he steadies his elbow on the other, index finger under his lips and thumb dipped under his chin. Well, this has been a really shitty day. Breathing in heavily, he shuts his eyelids, remembering his phone…is in the lab. So, he can’t even call for help. Fucking…

“Barry!” He cracks an eye open to see you holding a cup of coffee. His gaze trails down your body, starting from your cute little plum beanie that had a bow on the side, then your matching petticoat, ending at your tight black dress pants. “Barry? Are you alright? You seem angry. Aren’t you cold?” you ramble, your pale pink glossy lips in a tiny pout. An adorable tiny pout.

Wind blows at a high speed, snapping him back to reality. In his fit of rage, he forgot his jacket, and all he has is this thin V-neck, which scrunches just below his elbows. Heaving a sigh, he slumps back in his chair. “My, um, my chair died and I…I left my phone and my jacket at the lab.” he grumbles, scrubbing his face with the heels of his hands. “But, you’re probably on your way - wait, it’s nearly one o’clock, shouldn’t you be at the school, yanno, teaching?” he quips, cocking an eyebrow.

You smile sheepishly, taking a sip of your steaming drink. “It was a half day today…” you mumble, coddling your paper cup in between your thin gloves, which match your hat. You bounce on the heels of your sky blue flats. “Do you, I mean, I could push you back to the police department? Only if you want! Or I could go get Joe or someone? Unless you totally don’t want my help. Which is absolutely fine.” Your cheeks flush at the word vomit you just produced.

He scratches the back of his neck, opening and closing his mouth. Maybe his day is looking brighter. “If you - if you don’t mind pushing me to the CCPD, that would be fantastic, but you don’t have to…” he stumbles over his words, peering at the crack in the sidewalk. He would be lying if he said this isn’t embarrassing.

Your flats step against the ground lightly, taking you behind Barry’s chair. “Not at all. It’s my pleasure! I mean, not that this…this is good or anything, I’m just happy to help!” you beam, shaking your head at yourself as you try to move him forward. But nothing happens. Are you really that weak? He doesn’t look like he’s that heavy…

“Oh! Wait!” he winces, turning around at the same time you bend down. Your lips touch his nose, causing an awkward giggle to drip from his mouth. You pull away, grinning at the vibrant pink lipstick stain now on the tip of his slanted nose. “There’s these two levers on both sides, by the wheels and, um, you just gotta flip them to ‘manual’ instead of ‘automatic’. Sorry, forgot to tell you.” he mumbles, scolding himself mentally.

Nodding your head, you peek down at the wheels. “That’s okay! Here, could you hold my coffee? I think I’ll need both my hands to push, yanno? And I don’t want to spill my hot coffee on your wheelchair - that would not be good!” He hums, holding out his hands to grip the paper cup. “Don’t drink it on me.” you joke, yanking the lever on the left side up then the lever on the right side.

He laughs; airy and free of anger as you begin pushing. It’s not as heavy as before, thankfully. “I wouldn’t drink your coffee; no matter how heavenly it smells. Besides, I think I kinda owe you one for doing this.” He gazes around, catching a glimpse of you from the corner of his eye. “Thank you, by the way. I was - I was fucked to say the least.” he mutters, seeing the big golden CCPD sign getting closer and closer.

“No, you don’t owe me. You needed help and I was there, so I helped. I’m sure you would have to, if I was the one who needed help.” you explain, crinkling your brows together. Barry doesn’t say a word after that, neither do you.

When you get up the ramp, he’s practically shivering. Eddie meets you at the door, hands on his hips, pushing his jacket behind him, showing off his flashy badge that’s clipped to his pants. “You know, Barry, when I said take a drive, I didn’t mean go across the city!” he laughs, drawing his gaze to you, “I can take it from here. Thanks.” he smiles, removing his hands from his hips; sleek dress shoes scuffing on the sidewalk.

You automatically let go of the handlebars, letting the detective take over. Barry holds out your coffee cup, peering up at you with big bright green puppy dog eyes. “Oh, my coffee! Thank you, Barry, I almost forgot!” you praise, grabbing the cup from his long, cold fingers. The dings of the clocktower catch your attention and your eyes widen comically. “Is that the time?! Shoot! I have PPT meeting soon!” You turn to Barry, “I’m so sorry, I have to go! I’ll see you later - hey, maybe we could get coffee? I mean, not now, but -”

“Friday? After school ends?” Barry offers hopefully, completely by passing the fact that Eddie’s still there. (He can wait, Barry decides) You nod, taking your phone from your coat pocket; he enters his number. A blinding smile blossoms on your face and for a moment Barry forgets how to breathe. “You probably should go! I - You don’t want to be late, right?” he all but whispers; you sigh, saying goodbye and leaving in a rush. Barry totally does not watch your ass as you walk away. God, stop thinking that.

While pushing the wheelchair inside, Eddie snorts, fingers rapping on the foam covering the handlebars. A sly smirk crosses his lips, “So… Miss Y/L/N, huh?” he questions in a suggestive tone.

Barry huffs, slumping in his seat, “Shut up, Eddie.” he grunts under his breath. Eddie notices the pink lipstick mark on the tip of his nose but doesn’t say anything.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The date™.

The clock seems to envy Barry. It feels like each second is longer than the last, causing an hour to feel like two days. He tries to focus on the chemicals in front of him, ignoring how his feet are dragging on the floor, not that he can feel them anyway. It’s his stupid fault really; last night he was so tired that he said ‘fuck it’ and passed out, leaving his wheelchair almost dead.

That’s why today is a ‘push day’, as Eddie calls it, which really just means he’s in his manual chair rather than his electric. Placing the vials in between his knees, he unlocks the breaks, adjusting his hands on the thin bar. The wheels move at a steady rate, mainly because he has to really shove to propel himself forward, and squeak to a stop when he gets to the other side of the lab.

He puts the vials of colorful liquid in their case with a sigh. He hates using his manual wheelchair. It takes so much energy out of him and by the end of the day, his arms are like jell-o. One thing he’s really worried about is his coffee date with you. He has to give himself enough time to push himself all the way to Jitters.

“Hey Barr!” Eddie beams, entering through the big doorway. His black tie dangles in the middle of his chest, covering up most of the small buttons of his pale blue shirt. He flings the folder that he has on the metal desk and it slides perfectly in the center.

Barry sighs deeply from his stomach, turning one wheel to face the detective, who is blocking his vision of the clock. “Eddie, not to sound rude, but don’t you have a job you should be doing?” he asks, trying not to sound as frustrated as he is. If he had half a mind, he would show the detective to the door, in the politest way possible.

The blond shrugs, dress shoes echoing through the room as he leans his ass against the metal desk. His black suit jacket scrunches at his elbows when he crosses his arms. “At the moment? No. It’s been slow today.” he mumbles optimistically, “So, Captain’s letting me have an extended break! But, Iris is busy all day, so…” he trails off, bowing his head slightly.

“No!” Barry resorts immediately, waving his pointer finger while he releases the breaks to his chair. His hands guide the wheels around the detective, going towards the file. Focus on your job, Barry, focus on your job.

Following the other man with his blue eyes, Eddie’s shoulders slump. Why is Barry such a downer? “You don’t even know what I was gonna say!” he argues, light pink lips turned downward. Not in a pout. Detectives do not pout.

Wheels skid to a stop. “Yes, Edward, I do know what you were going to say! You were gonna say, ‘so that means I can push you to your date.’.” Barry drops his voice to mimic his foster sister’s fiance, making him snort, “And, the answer is no, Eddie. So just leave it.” he all but begs, death staring the other man in the room.

Eddie frowns for a sheer millisecond before tilting his lips into a smirk, “But, Barr, it’s -”

“Don’t say it.”

“- push day!” he cheers, practically jumping. Barry shoots him a glare; he ignores it completely, all traces of a smirk gone, replaced with a bright smile. “So, it’s kind of a law that I push you. You don’t wanna run out of energy before you even get to the date! Who knows, she might want to… ‘teach you things’, later on.” he snorts. The forensic scientist is going to kill Joe for mentioning that. “Wait, can you even…” he trails off, face dropping.

Barry lets an angry sigh out, crossing his arms over his plain white t-shirt. He is 110% done with this date already and it hasn’t even began. “Yes, Eddie, my dick still functions properly.” he nods, rolling his eyes. His head tilts to the side, getting a clear view of the clock hung high up on the wall. It’s 2:47?! “Shit! I’m supposed to be there by three!” he curses, rolling to his gray petticoat draped across the stool.

There’s no way he can get himself there on time now. Unless… god, he’s going to have to do it. “Eddie, I need you to push me.” he grumbles under his breath, pulling his arm through his coat sleeve. Oh, he is sure he is going to regret this decision.

“Hell yes! Okay, let’s go!” Eddie beams, racing behind Barry. He grips the handlebars, shoving the wheelchair towards the elevator and clicks the ‘up’ button. “It’s push day….field day….dadada…” he hums that annoying song he came up with while the elevator drops to their floor. Barry loathes that song. The doors bing open and the detective runs into the… “Big metal death trap…” he gulps, pressing the main floor. “Don’t worry, we’ll get there with time to spare!” he assures the scientist, patting his chest.

“Erm, please don’t touch me.” Barry mutters, hearing the ‘ding’ of the elevator. When the doors shoot open, Eddie heads to the exit, turning the wheelchair around so it’s easier. His back hits the glass and in less than a minute, they’re down the ramp. “Eddie! Eddie! Slow down!” he squeals, holding the metal on the armrests for safety. He hates push day.

Ignoring that request, Eddie speeds down the sidewalk; suit jacket flapping against his torso and wheels spinning (probably) faster than they should. But, oh well, he can see the Jitters sign! They’re almost there! He boosts, running faster than he was, making the wheelchair creak. His tongue fits perfectly in between his lips and some would say he looks like a dog; but they made it to the door!

“Um, Eddie, slow down! EDDIE STOP!” Except, Eddie doesn’t stop in time and Barry gets a little too friendly with Jitters floor. Meaning, his legs are tangled up in the footrests, his arms are scrunched underneath his torso and his nose is bent sideways. What a perfect way to start a first date. Lying face down on the floor.

“Oh my - Barry!” you shout, bending down to the lanky man. Your ocean blue scarf dangles in front of his face and you steady yourself in your brown boot heels. Maybe heels were the wrong shoe choice for today.

Yeah, he is regretting his decision. His nature green eyes peek up at you from his position. “Oh, hey Y/N.” he mumbles nonchalantly against the orange tiles, “How are you doing today?” he asks, trying not to draw attention to himself.

You bite your fuchsia bottom lip, “Erm, I’m okay b-”

“That’s great!” Barry beams, face still pressed to the floor, “Question, you’re a teacher, is it normal to feel your dick inside you? ‘Cause I’m pretty sure I feel my dick inside of me right now.” he mumbles; you blush, trying to contain your giggles. “Eddie! A little help here would be nice?” he says in a playful tone.

Eddie blinks at the menu, snapping back to reality. “Right, right, sorry, got distracted.” Quickly, he wraps his arms around Barry’s torso, standing him up before sitting him in his chair. “I’ll come back later.” he nods, smiling at you, then heading out the door.

Barry shifts in his seat, “So…the date?’

You blush, walking around his chair. “What happened to your power chair? If you don’t mind me asking.”

He sighs as you push him towards the counter, “I’m an idiot that didn’t think to plug it in…again” he mutters, pulling out his wallet after you order your drink. “A hot chocolate, for me - oh! And those little marshmallows! Thanks.” he smiles. You go to get your wallet, but he stops you. “I’m paying - don’t argue.” he giggles, noticing your red face.

“Okay, okay,” you sigh, shrugging off your felt coat, showing your long sleeved gray dress with striped matching leggings underneath, “but I’m paying next time.” you bargen, fixing your blue scarf on your neck.

Barry nods, at a loss for words. When you go grab the drinks, he looks down at his lap, whispering, “Not now boner.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Walking should not be this hard.

Have you ever wanted something so bad that you just can’t have? When Barry was younger, he always wanted a puppy. Joe never got him one though; he said it was a big responsibility, too big for a ten year old. Now, he still wants a puppy, but not as much as he wants to be able to walk again.

This weekend is his second date with you and to say he is freaking out is an understatement. He knows he should technically be doing his job, yet, there isn’t many cases in need of forensics. So, he decides to, at least, do something productive. In one swift motion, after turning the chair off, he tugs himself up by grabbing the wood wall.

Okay, okay, he’s got this. He grips the small light gray handle of the crutch, feeling the plastic circle cling to his forearm, just below his brunched up green sweater, and leans away from the wall. A broad smile spreads across the lower half of his face, eyes squinted with happiness. He’s standing! Holding back a manly squeal, he focuses on his unmoving legs.

Biting his lower lip, he tries to send signals from his brain to his legs. Nothing happens, sadly, which, of course, frustrates him. “Come on, come on, please.” he begs to his limbs. Maybe if he moves the crutch first, then his legs will follow? Yeah, yeah, that sounds like it will work.

Testing his theory, he picks up the left crutch, placing it in front of him, followed by the other one and…his legs still don’t fucking move. Instead, because he has most, if not all, of his weight on the two metal poles, he tumbles forward, face hitting the dark stone floor. Out of frustration, and the fact that, ow, that hurt, tears spill from his eyes, replicating the rain outside.

Footsteps echo through the empty hallways at a fast pace and Joe runs through the huge doorway. “Barry!” he cries out, black suit jacket flying around his torso. If he didn’t hold so much over him, manly being his foster father, Barry would scream for him to get out. That he wants to wallow in self-pity alone. “What were you thinkin’, boy?” he questions in his famous ‘dad’ voice; tie wrinkling as he picks up his son. It’s like fifth grade all over again…

Tears still stream down Barry’s flushed cheeks. God, he’s so mad! An angry huff escapes him when he’s back in his cramped wheelchair. “I was thinking I want to walk, Joe!” he sobs in frustration. Joe’s face softens and there’s something glimmering in his eyes; Barry swears it’s pity for a moment.

“Is this about your date-”

“Yes, Joe! It is!” Barry fumes, fighting with the sleeve of his sweater. Just fucking roll up my elbow already… Joe sighs, rubbing his temple; he hates seeing his son so…infuriated. “Is it so much to ask to be able to walk, Joe?! Is it?!” he asks, practically hitting himself in the face while trying to dry his cheeks.

The detective rubs a hand over his face, shaking his head. “Barr, I know - well, I don’t. I don’t know what you’re going through. I’m not going to even pretend like I know what you’re going through, okay? Just… you gotta let me in, son. I can’t read your mind.” he admits, waving one of his hand for emphasis; the other rests on his hip, above his gold CCPD badge.

Barry sighs, starting to calm himself down. It really helps that Joe has this smooth, silky, calming voice; only a few fathers have that quality. “I’m, um, taking Y/N to the park, because they, you know, have those lights that you can walk through? And, I…I don’t know, Joe, I just…” he trails off, letting his hands fall limp on his lap.

Then, it all makes sense. “You wanted to be able to walk with her?” Barry nods, “To hold her?” Joe arches an eyebrow; Barry nods again. “To be able to lean down at the right moment and kiss her -”

“Okay, Joe, now you’re really starting to bum me out.”

Maybe that was too far. “Sorry.” the detective mutters, clapping his son’s shoulder, shaking him slightly. Barry suddenly feels like a bobblehead. “You’ll figure it out, Barr, I know you will. Besides, she likes you for you. Just calm down, okay? Don’t stress yourself out.” Yeah, that’s easier said than done.

 

*TIME SKIP*

 

He peers around the park for you, undoing the top button of his gray petticoat. Don’t check the watch, don’t check the watch and…he checks the watch. At least he’s not late. There’s five more minutes - did he just hear his name? No, no, he’s probably imagining things because he’s so nervous.

Unexpectedly, a pair of arms wrap around his chest, hugging him from behind. He cranes his neck, smiling when he notices your face in his shoulder. “Hey there.” he giggles, suddenly feeling you let go.

You fix your gray hat on your hair, black flower print dress flowing around your warm leggings; Barry almost dies. “I missed you…” you admit in a quiet voice, clasping your white gloves together nervously. He blushes all the way to his chest, stumbling over his words. “This is very romantic; the lights, I mean. I love all the different colors and how they all come together to create something much bigger…” you trail off, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

Barry, with his mouth ajar, nods. That was beautiful. “Yeah, me too…” he mutters in a daze, eyes focused on you - not your pale pink lips that look - no. “You, um, are you ready?” he asks awkwardly, pointing to the entrance; you nod, starting to walk while he drives beside you. Good thing he remembered to charge his wheelchair.

When you pass by the first light design and stop, he grows anxious. Did he fuck this date up already? “Can you - don’t answer if you don’t want to - can you feel your legs?” you wonder, gazing at him with big Y/C/E eyes; he shakes his head slowly, uncertain about where this conversation is heading. Grinning, you climb on his lap, dress fanning on the foam armrest. “Is - is this okay?” you question timidly, wrapping your arm around his neck.

Don’t get a boner right now, dude. Keeping his composer, he nods, smiling at you. He pushes the joystick forward, watching you admire the majestic light display. A giggle leaves his lips while you point at a Grinch light, eyes blown wide in amazement. He doesn’t pay much attention to the lights. Instead, he focuses on you; how the multicolored lights cast shadows on your face, how he has one hand on your waist, holding you to him.

It isn’t a huge display; it takes roughly fifteen minutes to arrive at the end. You face him, grinning from ear to ear. That was a fun ride. His green orbs outline your plump pink lips in a daze and for a minute, he feels like any ordinary guy on a date. With that surge of confidence, he leans forward, upper lip connecting to your lower one.

The kiss doesn’t last for long, but Barry, as cliche as it sounds, felt fireworks. Or heard fireworks. One of the two. He pulls back, sure that your lipstick is now on his lips, and blinks, refocusing his eyes on your blush.

“Wow.” he breathes.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You finally meet Iris.

Ever since his date with you, Barry has been…happier. Today, instead of waking up with a frown, he woke up with a smile that could make even the Joker jealous. He likes a lot of things about you; one thing that really sticks to his ribs though is how you text him every morning. It’s nothing big, yet, those texts help him get through the day.

He props the glass CCPD door open with his wheelchair, grinning to himself. When he manages to get into the building, he almost runs over Eddie’s foot by accident. Luckily, Eddie jumps out of the way, hoisting his cup of coffee up to his cheek. “Barry!” he screams in shock, cloudy blue eyes wide; his green aztec tie flaps against his white button down.

Barry cringes, clutching his iphone5 to his chest like it’s a newborn baby. Okay, maybe there is a reason why there’s a law about texting while driving. He didn’t think it counted because he’s in a wheelchair. “Sorry…” he squints up at the young detective, shoulders rising up to his ears. “I just -” His phone makes a popping sound, causing him to remove it from his plum colored sweater, peering at the screen.

A giggle, a giggle, explodes from the forensic scientist; Eddie arches one of his blonde eyebrows. Barry’s thumbs tap the screen rapidly, hitting the lime green ‘SEND’ button before locking his phone, beaming. “Y/N.” he tilts his head to the side, nodding, “So, anything new today? Metahumans? Other criminal things?” he asks, thrusting the joystick forward.

The detective follows suit, scrunching his eyebrows together, “Um, no, not anything involving forensics. But -” Barry stops suddenly, causing one of the handlebars to connect with Eddie’s gut in a new, personal way. “Oof! Barr, a little warning next time, please?” Barry winces. “Anyway, like I was saying, but -”

“BARRY!” Iris interrupts her fiance, scurrying over to the two men. Her pink tank top flows underneath the black blazer, barely gracing her high waisted dark blue jeans. She smiles at her foster brother before punching his shoulder; he mutters an ‘ow’, hand touching the spot. “That was for not telling me that you got a date!” she grumbles, crossing her arms, “I had to hear about it from this doofus.” she nods to Eddie, who looks generally insulted.

Barry chuckles, flashing her an awkward smile. Okay, so it slipped his mind to mention it to Iris, but, in his defence, there was more pressing issues. “Sorry, I kinda… I just… erm, hmm….” He doesn’t have a good answer to that. His phone makes the same noise as before and he blushes to the tips of his ears. Iris opens her mouth in disbelief. “Hold that thought!” He raises his index finger, unlocking his phone.

Gawking at Eddie, who’s guzzling his coffee, Iris blinks. Snatching the phone, she smirks at her brother, “Are you texting her?! At work?!” she teases, fingers tapping on the screen, “Y/N? Hmm…sounds pretty.” she grins wickedly, clicking the messages from you.

Oh my god, does she have no boundaries?! “IRIS!” he screeches, pine tree colored eyes blown wide. She just cackles, dancing around his wheelchair as he reaches out for her. His face is stark white, kind of resembling a ghost in a horror movie that came out in the early eighties. Eddie finishes his coffee with a satisfied ‘ah’.

Iris fake gasps, chin pressed to her shoulder while she smirks, eyes squinted at the brown haired man. A warning look flashes on Barry’s face. “Are these text inappropriate for the workplace?” she asks, trying to be seductive, eyebrows wiggling, milk chocolate fingers rapping against the back of the phone while it bings with another text.

His eyes nearly pop out of his head; Eddie chokes on air. Why on earth would she say something like that?! “NO!” Barry resorts, causing a few of the police’s heads to whip in the trios direction, including Joe. Iris giggles, scrolling through the conversation and cooing at the selfie you sent him; the one where you have an art apron on. “Yes, yes, I know, she’s adorable. Believe me, I know…” he sighs.

“And apparently so does your little friend…”

His… little fri- oh no. Not now. He nonchalantly peers down at his lap, and, sure enough, he has a full on boner. What the f- “Iris!” he seethes, covering his lap the best he can. She laughs, bending over, holding his phone to her chest; black waves falling in front of her face. “You know I can’t control it sometimes!” he fumes, gritting his teeth.

Breathless and gasping for air, she stands up straight, wiping the tears from her delicate light brown cheeks. “I know, I know, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” she snorts, handing Barry his phone, sighing happily. He glares at her checking the new message…what did she do to my phone… “Um, Barr…” she whispers, pointing to the door.

Barry frowns at his phone, trying to unfreeze the screen. “Not now, Iris…” he mutters, tone frosty, tapping the frozen home page.

“No, Barr, I really think you sh-”

“Eddie, don’t you have something to - GAH!” He nearly jumps out of his chair when the familiar feeling of your arms cross his chest, wrinkling his dark purple sweater. “Hey…you…” he says awkwardly, silently pleading to the duo because - oh no - the dick… “Y/N? Why - ha - why are you here? I thought - you have - the - I -… School.” he sputters, blinking at the last word.

You release his sweater, standing up straighter; your pale yellow flower print romper swaying at your thighs. “Oh! The grade went on a field trip today, so, it’s kinda my day off?” you shrug, wrapping your thin gray cardigan around your waist. “And, um, I thought I’d be a nice gi-person, a nice person, and grab you some coffee, since, you know, you have work and….” you blush, holding the cup of Jitter’s coffee out.

His mouth hangs open, hands grabbing the cup. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Iris cover her mouth with her hands, dark brown orbs shimmering in excitement. “Oh, um, thank you! This is - you… you’re so sweet.” he smiles with a deep red blush, leaning up to peck your cheek. “I kinda needed yo-this. Oh, hey, look they put caramel in this - Hey, Iris, have you met-”

That’s her queue! “I’m Iris, Barry’s foster sister!” she beams, shaking your hand. Her eyes rake down your outfit, nodding, “Cute clothes!” she compliments.

You grin, “Nice to meet you! I’m Y/N.” You glance down, “Thanks, I just threw it on…” you admit, tucking your hair behind your ear nervously.

“You always look cute though…” Barry mutters in the palm of his hand, elbow resting on the armrest. You blush. This is not helping his dick problem! “I, um, need to - to work! Yeah, yeah, very important things.” he lies, grabbing your hand, “I’ll see you this weekend?” he says awkwardly; you nod, kissing his cheek, like always. “Great! I l- I…yeah.” he blushes, rolling to the elevator, peering at his lap. Yup, it’s still there.

Iris snorts, leaning close to you, “He’s having, um, a little problem…”

“Oh, um…”

Barry breathes heavily, forcing the joystick forward, pressing the basement floor. The silver doors shut and he sighs. Iris really needs a filter.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry visits your class and it's really adorable.

It isn’t that Barry lied to the Captain, he just…fabricated the truth to his benefit. Really, he did have a doctor’s appointment this afternoon, but it got cancelled. So, that gave him a little, or big, idea. At least, to him, the idea is big.

After storing away his equipment, he heads to the main lobby; wheels squeaking as Joe stands in front of him. Busted. Barry cringes, awaiting the long, drawn out speech about lying and ignoring your responsibilities. Except, it never comes. “It’s pretty cold outside, son.” Joe hums in his smooth tone, tucking his blue button down in his dress pants. “You might need a scarf…” he sways over to his desk, pulling a thick red scarf; it was Barry’s as a teenager. “Don’t need you getting sick.” He hangs it on his son’s neck.

Barry peers up at the man, thick eyebrows crinkled in confusion. The foster father wraps the ratty, faded scarf around his slender neck a few times, smirking. Before Barry can even question what’s going on, a crisp twenty dollar bill flurries from the old fabric, landing on his brown peacoat. “Buy her something on the way to the school.” Joe winks, patting his chest. How did he kno- well, he is his dad…

“Thanks, Joe.” Barry blushes, crumpling the money in his palm. With a tiny smirk, Joe nods, ruffling his messy brown hair and walking back to his desk. A smile teases Barry’s lips; he drives forward, opening the door and racing down the ramp, stopping abruptly at the end, yanking his cotton sleeve up to check his watch. 12:47. He has approximately two hours until school ends. Thank god for elementary schools.

Flinging the joystick forward, he zooms down the busy Central City streets, weaving through the crowd of people, occasionally throwing an apology over his shoulder. Okay, so maybe he is on the fastest speed, but, he can’t be late. Not this time.

The ends of his scarf fly behind him, making him feel like pilot Snoopy in those old Peanuts movies he used to watch as a kid. He’s so focused on getting there, he zips right by a flower shop. Wait. He reverses, hitting the automatic door button (a flower shop has one but the CCPD doesn’t?) and rolling inside.

Rows of colorful flowers line the mint green walls, causing the little shop to appear more open and full. Gulping, Barry slowly drives around the store, gazing at the flowers with a pained expression. Would you like flowers? Should he get roses? No, no, you two haven’t been dating that long. Not at that stage.

What about… he reads the tag, tilting his head to the side. Daffodils. They’re bright yellow and have long, floppy petals. Perfect. Barry nods to himself, pulling the bouquet out of the cardboard holder and rolling to the cash register. The woman smiles at him, ringing up the flowers. “$9.98.” He forks over the twenty dollar bill, sliding it on the gray counter. “Would you like a bag?”

Barry shakes his head, reaching for the flowers and change. “Thank you!” he exclaims, shoving the money in his coat pocket. Gripping the bouquet, he spins the joystick, heading to the door; he presses the blue button with his elbow.

If he squints, he can make out the school, which is a few miles away. Quickly, he drives forward, wheels spinning like a locomotive; he darts past a few elderly ladies feeding pigeons, holding the flowers to his chest while their wings flap around him in a sea of dark gray. “Sorry!” he yells, peering back with an awkward grin, still moving forward across the street. Luckily, he misses a truck, getting on the sidewalk alive.

A breath of relief escapes him and he runs a hand through his windswept hair. Okay, he almost died, erm, Joe doesn’t need to know that; what he doesn’t know won’t kill him, right? Barry blinks before heading towards the wood makeshift ramp. He cracks a smile; he wouldn’t be surprised if you made it. You’re thoughtful like that.

He opens the door using his method, gawking at the high ceilings. Barry isn’t an architect, but he still appreciates beautiful buildings. His wheels cause the sleek dark mahogany wood floor to creak and he looks down, just in case. He refocuses in front of him, watching out for the small lockers against the cream wall.

Doors pass by and he tries finding the office. After a little roaming, he stops, scratching his head in confusion. There has to be an office, right? “Sir, are you lost?” He hears a gruff, manly voice come from behind him. Spinning his wheelchair around, he peeks up at the tan man wearing a suit similar to Joe’s.

Barry gulps, tightening his grip around the base of the flowers. “Erm, yeah.” he admits nervously, pulling at the ends of his scarf. “Do you know where I can find, Miss Y/L/N? I’m her, um, boyfriend?” he asks, lips pursed in a tight thin line.

“Yeah, second floor. Room 108.” the man says; Barry’s heart drops to his stomach. The school barely had a ramp! He doubts they have an elevator. “But, her class should be coming down to the music room in a few minutes, so if you want you can wait for her there. Or by the stairs.” the man points to the wooden staircase.

Gulping down his anxiety, Barry nods, “Okay, thank you.” he whispers, backing up; the man nods, heading down another hallway. His wheels creak on the floor as he makes his way to the stairs, checking his watch when he parks at the bottom. Is this too romantic? Barry really isn’t the romantic type…now he’s rethinking all of this. Maybe he should just go -

Then he hears your perky voice echo through the hallways and shifts in his seat. Be cool, be cool, he reminds himself. “- good for Mr. Mandy, then afterwards we can read a chapter of Junie B. Jones, then you can go home!” you tell your students, following them down the steps; your black ankle boot heels clicking against the wood. He can see your shoes, then your black tights that hide under the skirt of your pearl white dress with black ruffles, a matching bow around your waist.

Barry glances down at his outfit, suddenly feeling underdressed; his black peacoat ends just below his ass, meaning that he’s sitting on it, and his blue jeans are cuffed at the bottom, topped with his signature converse. He flashes a smile when you see him, watching you cover your mouth with your hands, black blazer scrunching at your elbows. “Surprise?” he bites his lip, trying to ignore the nine kids staring at him.

“Who are you?” one of them says. Barry blushes awkwardly.

You put a hand on the student, grinning as you try not to cry. Can’t ruin the makeup. “Kids, this is, um,” you move your hands around your stomach, “one of my very…close friends, Mr…Allen.” Boy, that sounds weird. “Here, let’s go to music class!” you beam, ushering the kids towards the classroom. “Thank you. They are beautiful.” you whisper, taking the flowers and pecking his lips softly.

He blushes, smiling from ear to ear as he follows you to the classroom, making his chair roll at the same pace as you walk. “I, um, got off work early and thought I’d surprise you.” he mumbles. Wow, that came out lame. “I mean, I can go and come back later -”

“Are you sure?” you interrupt, turning to face him while walking; your silver necklace dangling on your stomach. His blush on his face matches his scarf. “You could always stay for music class…and I don’t know if you heard but I’m reading Junie B. Jones… But I understand if it makes you uncomfortable.” you smile, stopping in front of the door.

That smile. Oh boy. “Okay. I’ll stay.” he says against his better judgement, green eyes glistening as you let a gleeful cheer out. You peck his lips before opening the door, dress swaying around your thighs as you walk to the back of the room, Barry follows, turning his chair off when you plop down on the colorful carpet. The teacher, who he met earlier, has the children sit in a circle, clapping a song to his guitar. “I thought you taught first grade?” he asks, gazing down at you.

You crinkle your eyebrows together, looking at him with your hands in your lap, your hair falling in your eyes. “I do.” you nod proudly. Barry tilts his head to the side. He’s kind of like a puppy. “This, um, this school is for…” your hands twitch in your lap; gaze drifting to the group of children, “for children who need more help?” you say in a question, turning your head to Barry but keeping your eyes on the beaming kids. “I like seeing their face when they get something right and how…how we think it’s so…simple, yet for them, it’s like asking them to do the impossible… And when they do get it, it’s - it’s like they conquered the world’s puzzle.” you sigh, cracking a slight grin.

Oh damn. He thinks he might have a heart attack. He wants to say so many things; that you are amazing, that this is such a wonderful school, that he feels like he should make out with you right here, right now, in the music room… But all he breathes out is… “Wow.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We find out that, yes, Barry's dick works.  
> WARNING: smut

Barry isn’t the most romantic man in the world. He knows that. But…he really wanted to add a dash of romance to his love łife. Not that the relationship isn’t passionate or anything! It’s just, well, how do you get someone to sex you up in a wheelchair?! That is the awkward but true question.

Flowers on the table? Check. (Joe’s) home cooked meal? Check. Mood music? Barry bites his lip. The CD mocks him; he waves the clear case, smacking it on his palm. He really should have listened to Eddie’s ‘mood music’ the night before. Who knows what’s even on the CD? And who uses CD’s anym- Eddie.

Heaving a deep breath, he faces the music, literally, and pops the thin case open. Please, please don’t let it be embarrassing. He will kill Eddie if ‘Sexy Can I’ is on here. His nimble fingers slide under the disk, carefully pulling it out of its home and pushing it into his (Joe’s) stereo.

The quiet knock on the door startles him, causing the lid to close. Okay, he just needs to relax. Grabbing his joystick, he drives his chair forward, running a hand through his slicked back hair. Hair product, Mother Nature’s true miracle. Fixing the cuffs to his black blazer, he shakes his arms, pumping himself up before opening the door.

Just as he opens the door, smooth jazz explodes from the speakers of the stereo. A nervous smile cracks his face. “Hey- wow.” he gawks at your mid-thigh flowy silver dress, hazel eyes blown wide. You blush, stepping inside as he rolls backwards, holding your silver cardigan to your shoulder. “You look…you are so beautiful.” he breathes, grabbing your hands.

Squeezing, you bend down, pecking his lips, leaving a reddish tint to the pink skin. He guides you toward the little dining room, avoiding the small brown couch next to a tall lamp, and pulling the foldable cushioned chair out from underneath the table. “Thank you.” you mutter sheepishly, watching him fit his chair across from you. The smell of the garlic bread takes over your nose and you moan, “It smells so good, Barr!”

He laughs, scooping some spaghetti into your bowl. “Don’t thank me, thank Joe. He made dinner. I just…supervised.” he shrugs, placing some of the pasta in his bowl. You giggle, fingers curling around the fork to your right; his eyes crinkle into a grin, glancing at his food. “Good to know I haven’t lost my humor too.” he jokes, digging his fork into the food.

Shifting, you pull the end of your dress. “And your cuteness. Definitely did not lose that.” you smile, taking another bite. Cute. No! He doesn’t want to be cute, he wants to be sexy! Barry raises the corner of his lips, dragging his pasta around. “What’s wrong?” you frown, grabbing his hand across the table.

“Am I sexy? Do you want to have sex with me?” he blurts out, immediately regretting it. Damn it. He fucked up. “I didn’t mean that!” he shouts in a frantic tone, waving his hands. You drop your fork, blushing like mad while you get up, tucking your hair behind your ear. He makes a pained expression, turning his chair; music shifting to some R&B song. “Y/N, please don’t g-oh.”

Your hands rest on his jean-clad thighs, pressing slightly as you lean forward, lips just ghosting his ear. His breath hitches. “Barry Allen,” you grin, “You are a very sexy man who I want to have sex with.” you breathe into the shell of his ear, hand creeping up his gray V-neck.

He groans, fingers finding their way to your pink cheeks, eyeing your lipstick hungrily. “I want you.” he whispers, tilting his chin up. Your ruby red lips leave a trail of kiss marks along his jawline. With a deep breath, he pulls your hips onto his lap, lips connecting with yours. The base of the Mike Posner song thumps through his apartment as his wheels squeak down the hallway.

When he stops at the door, you push the white wood open with your palm, lips never removing from his. The sound of the floor creaking echoes through the room and he stops at the low to the ground bed, hands wrapped around your thighs. He whimpers when you climb off his lap.

Biting your lip, you slip your cardigan down your shoulders, letting it pool on the floor. He gulps, dick aching as he watches you pull your pretty little dress of your head, messing up your hair perfectly. Your lips create marks on his pale skin, hands pushing his dark blazer off his shoulders; the quiet hum of ‘I Want You’ by Kings Of Leon mixed with Barry moans.

The blazer drops behind him and his lips attack your collarbone. Tugging his V-neck, you gaze at his abs, causing a blush to blossom on his cheeks. You giggle, lips dancing on his stomach. He stops you, eyes blown wide with lust as he pushes you on the bed, mouth ajar. You fan your arms, popping your swollen lips; bra disregarded on the floor.

He pushes himself out of the chair, bicep muscles flexing as he lowers himself to his bed. A strand of milk chocolate brown hair falls out of place when he climbs over you, knees pressed together in between your legs. His hands prop himself up, arms clenching while he leans down, pulling your lips with his teeth.

Sucking in a breath, your hand travel down his toned chest, stopping at his dark blue jeans, fingers fighting to unzip the stubborn zipper. Slowly, with care, you yank his jeans down, snapping the dark waistband of his boxers; he moans when his dick is finally free. The dick. He jumps, scooting himself in position. “I wantcha…” he hums with the music, hands cupping your breasts, making a peaceful groan pass your red lips.

“Barr…” You let a breath out, feeling the head of his dick tease your pussy, sneaking in between your wet folds. And then, ever so gently, he slides in you, breath hitching. You let out a quiet whine, hand crawling to where his sits on your stomach, intertwining your fingers together while smooth lyrics echo through the apartment.

His cheeks flush, “I…I can’t-” he peers at his hips in embarrassment. You flash a small smile, rocking your hips up to his to the beat of the song, making a soft moan escape him. He licks his bottom lip, bending to your boob and taking it in his mouth, tongue creating circles around the skin. You whimper, snapping your hips while you grip his hair. His bottom lip never leaves your boob when he looks at you through thick eyelashes. “Are you-”

You nod, feeling the knot in your stomach tighten as your skin slaps against his. He pants when your walls clench, already letting himself go; you cum at the same time. The both of your sweaty bodies crash on the bed sheets, legs tangled with each other. He blinks tiredly at you, cupping your cheek; you glance down at his torso, blushing. “You have lipstick all over your body.” you giggle.

His eyebrows crinkle and he peers at himself. “Oh,” he pants, “I do.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morning after....

Barry couldn’t hold back the groan when light slithered through the curtains. Is it really morning already? It isn’t until he hears a giggle and reality hits him like a fucking bus. Images of last night, you underneath him, panting, moaning, flood through his mind. It takes his eyes a few seconds to adjust before he looks to his side.

“I need a shower…” he mutters, voice gravelly and raspy. Barry blinks again, pushing himself up by his elbows. The bed shifts, following his movements at ease. You sit up, gray comforter falling from your shoulders, exposing your naked torso. He smiles sheepishly, peering down at his body, which is covered by your red lipstick marks. Wow, there’s a lot. “Um…do you…would you…” he scratches the back of his neck, “Shower?”

You break into a grin, leaning over to peck his lips, thumb brushing the mark perfectly imprinted on his pale, freckled cheek. “Sure, love. Let me just get your chair, okay?” He nods, watching you swing your legs off the bed, standing up. He can’t help but stare at the curve of your ass as you make your way over to his wheelchair, which is parked by the closet. How it got there is beyond him.

Biting your lip, you tuck your hair behind your ear, leaning over the joystick. Okay, so the on/off button is at the top… you press it, jumping a little when the chair beeps; Barry giggles. This is adorable. Deciding for the best, you sit in the seat, curling your hand around the joystick and thrusting it forward. The chair moves really fast, to your surprise, but you manage, with a lot of breaks, to park it at the edge of the bed, closest to your boyfriend.

Grinning from ear to ear, he flops the blanket off, pushing himself by his hands. His biceps flex, arms reaching to the chair to pull himself up. You watch his muscles move underneath his skin, trying to control yourself. “You are so strong…” you whisper in a daze; he blushes down his bare chest, positioning himself in the chair. “So… how long did it take for…” you trail off, poking his bicep.

Barry gulps; he never thought he was strong… sure, he had to be able to hold himself up, but he just brushed it off. “I don’t know. I never really noticed…” he admits, moss green eyes following your ass while you sit in his lap. He wishes he could feel his legs right now. “I’m not…” he starts driving towards the bathroom, “I don’t work out, if that’s what you’re thinking.” he babbles, wheels squeaking on the brown speckled tiled floor.

Humming, you card your fingers through his messy brown locks, tugging on them slightly. His thick, full eyelashes bat against his cheeks for a moment. “Barry, I love you.” you whisper when he stops his chair at the edge of the shower, kissing his lips before climbing off his lap. Thankfully, his dick is behaving.

“I love you, too.” he muses, turning his chair off, eyes glued to yours. You grin, hands clasped in front of your stomach, palms pressed to skin. Licking his lips, he scoots to the edge of his seat, reaching towards the clear bar nestled into the shower wall. His fingers grab a hold of it, yanking himself up; you suddenly are on high alert, arms outstretched. “I’m fine, babe.” he chuckles, spinning himself around so he can land on the seat that’s attached to the wall. He looks at you, waiting. “Are…are you gonna…join me…or just look at me?” he asks awkwardly.

Sheepishly, you step in, “Sorry, you’re just…handsome.” you blush, squatting down in front of him.

Barry thinks his heart just busted a nut. His face flushes, making his moles more prominent on his cheeks. “You’re so beautiful.” he grins, pushing the hair from your eyes. “It’s gonna be really cold, get ready.” he laughs, watching your face scrunch up. When the water spews from the shower head, your mouth opens, shrieking as the icy droplets hit your back. He chuckles, water spraying him, “I told you! Don’t worry, it’ll warm up in a sec.”

And it does. In a short time, the water turns warm and you sigh, reaching for the bottle of shampoo. “Can I?” you ask, popping the top off; he nods. Squirting some in the palm of your hand, you comb through his hair, creating foam and giggle when his eyelids flutter closed. “Feel good?” He hums, bobbing his head up and down. “Want me to do your body too?” you question, shampoo dripping off your fingers.

“If… if you don’t mind?” he says bashfully, eyeing how you grab the bar of soap, rubbing it so it’s sudsy. “C-could I, um, help you after?” he mumbles, unsure if that was appropriate to ask. His body tingles, feeling the smooth bar of soap run up and down his abs; a sigh escapes his swollen lips.

You continue moving the bar up his chest, to his arms, down to his hands. “Of course, sweetheart.” you reassure, wiping water off his eyelashes before going to his thighs. He cracks a sad smile. “I know you can’t feel this, I’m sorry.” you frown, scrubbing his hairy legs, fingers trailing up and down.

He swallows, “Don’t be; it’s not your fault… I’m happy.” he sniffles, cupping your cheek as his mop of wet hair dangles in his eyes. “I’m really happy…” he smiles, pecking your forehead, “Now can I wash your hair, please?”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Work's a bitch.  
> WARNING: angst

Work calls. Like it does every day. Sometimes, like today, even on weekends. After that glorious shower, Barry was prepared to spend the rest of the day in bed with you, since it’s Saturday and there’s no school. Work had other plans. He let you wear some of his sweats (you made it clear, you were going) and tugged on a dark blue hoodie and baseball hat to hide his messy hair.

When he enters the CCPD, anxiety bubbles up inside his stomach. Why is everyone looking at him like that? Awkwardly, he nudges the joystick forward, peering back at you; you shrug, shrinking in his S.T.A.R. Labs sweatshirt. One thing he realizes is that Joe isn’t here…or Eddie…somethings wrong…

One of the cops stands next to Captain Singh and another man, who was tall and blond, is at his other side. “Allen, I’m truly sorry to say this, but we’ve been noticing since your accident, your work has had many errors.” the Captain winces, stepping closer to Barry, “Now, believe me, kid -”

“I’m a man!” Barry hisses, clearly irritated that his forensics is being insulted. Your breath hitches, eyes glued to the scene in front of you.

Singh sighs, rubbing his temples, light blue button down shirt sleeve scrunching at his elbows. “You’re right, Allen, you’re a man. Meaning, you need to face the facts like one! Your disability is interfering with your job. It’s making you weak, vulnerable, helpless!.” he scolds, frowning. Barry keeps his face stoic, even though he wants to cry. “Julian is going to step in for you until…until you can do your job without any errors, until you can change, understood?”

There’s a pregnant pause and Barry swallows, green eyes glassy, “You can’t just…take me and throw me away!” he yells, voice cracking. Singh sighs again, about to talk. “You…don’t know me. How - how do expect me to change?! I…I’ll never be what you want me to be because my legs… Whatever. Just… whatever.” he sniffles, tears burning his eyes.

You bite your tongue, watching Barry angrily thrust his joystick around, heading to the door. Is it wrong to flip off the cops? Eh. You scowl, following after your boyfriend, who’s already outside. Your feet slip in the big shoes you have on and you tug up his gray sweatpants. “Barry!” you call for him, voice eager and frightened.

He stops, spinning around when he gets down to the sidewalk, peering up at you with watery eyes. He looks, feels so broken. His hands wave in front of his chest as he opens his mouth, jaw tensing. “Why can’t they be like you, Y/N? You…see what they don’t see. I can be what you want me to be…because you don’t care about this!” he gestures to the wheelchair, tears streaking his pale cheeks, “Can you help me be a man? ‘Cuz…” he shakes his head, swallowing a sob.

Cupping his cheek, he leans into your palm, you gaze at him with stain glass eyes. What should you say? “Barry Allen, you are a strong, mentally and physically, independent man. You don’t need me to help you be a man.” you whisper, “You’re still here. After everything you’ve gone through, you’re still here! And, you don’t need to change. They need to change; they stay the same. This isn’t right! We need to…first we need to tell Joe, because something tells me he didn’t know about this.” you mumble, drying drops off his thick lashes.

Barry nods, gulping as he pulls his phone from his hoodie pocket, trying to focus his eyes on the small screen. When he gets the contact up, he presses the ‘call’ button, lifting it to his ear; his hand holds yours and Y/C/E eyes stare back at him. “Joe.” he croaks out, voice cracking, “C-can we come over?” he sniffles; you squeeze his hand. “Thanks…”

 

*TIME SKIP*

 

Joe wraps his arm around Barry, helping his foster son sit down on the couch as you park his chair by the door. “I really need to get ramps…” he huffs, plopping in the brown leather recliner with an over dramatic sigh; dark sweater scrunching at his waist. Barry’s lips shift upward a centimeter. “Now, who’s gonna tell me what happened?” he asks in his smooth tone, chocolate brown eyes shifting between the two of you. He’s already in dad mode.

Noticing how distraught your boyfriend is, you set yourself next to him, taking off the navy baseball hat, revealing his messy light brown hair. “The police are dicks…no offense.” Your eyes squint while your fingers comb through his hair. “They got a new forensic scientist because apparently Barr can’t ‘do his job’!” you grit your teeth together, positioning your legs underneath you.

“It’s bullshit, Joe!” Barry sobs, faucet turning in his eyes again. He leans into you, feeling the cotton of his sweatshirt over his chest. Though he loves laying on your breasts, tonight it makes him feel weak and vulnerable, like Singh called him. “W-w-what am I gonna do? I-I- don’t know what to do J-Joe…” he cries, leaning into you more.

Helplessly, you stare at Joe, scratching the back of Barry’s head in hopes that it will calm him down. The detective’s jaw sets, “They can’t do that. There’s an act that bans that.” he fumes, standing up from his comfy recliner, “I’m going down there to sort this out. You guys can stay here, order a pizza maybe. Don’t worry, son, I’m not leaving until everything’s good.” he promises, running one of his smooth palms in Barry’s hair before slipping his shoes on.

Barry sniffles, hearing the front door open and close. His big hazel doe eyes stare up at you. “Y/N, did you really mean what you said before? That I’m strong and stuff? Or was that just something to boost my self esteem?” he asks, voice muffled by your (his) sweatshirt.

Your eyebrows crinkle together and your fingers stop scratching his head, much to his disappointment. “Every word of it.” you confirm, pulling his face up to yours, “I love you so much, wheelchair and all.” you say sincerely, causing his eyes to twinkle with tears.

“That means so much to me, beautiful…” he whimpers, shaking his head, “I love you more than you’ll probably ever know.” he grins, leaning up to kiss you. At least he has one thing Julian will never have: you.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry saves you.

Barry’s blood is boiling. This guy, Julian, is really getting on his nerves. Thinks he knows everything about metas! Well, Barry was a meta for a short period of time so…ha! Take that Julian! He probably could solve this case faster alone. If he could stop glaring at the blond and his tall frame… Barry has a tall frame! You just can’t tell because he’s in his wheelchair all the time.

“Allen, as flattered as I am, shouldn’t you be doing something? Perhaps helping me with the case? This meta is still on the loose, you know.” Julian sneers in his British accent, flipping through the white pieces of paper, his blue tie dangling just above the files. His eyes snap up, shooting a glare at the brunette.

Barry’s face grows hot with anger and his long fingers clench around his joystick, jaw set to comeback with a remark. “BARRY!” Eddie’s voice echoes off the walls when he enters the lab, black suit jacket hanging off one shoulder. Quickly, both of the forensic scientists look at him; Barry’s eyes wide. “It’s Y/N. T-the meta got her; Joe’s there-” he pants, out of breath from running.

Y/N. They took his Y/N. Forcing his chair forward, he hits the elevator button, ignoring Julian’s calls. He is going to make this meta pay for taking her. His wheel squeak as he spins in the elevator and he jabs the main floor button.

It only takes him fifteen minutes to get to the bridge where the meta is thanks to the highest speed on his wheelchair. Speed. There’s that word again; speed…if only he had his speed… His hazel eyes darken when he accesses the situation. Mirror Master has his hand wrapped tightly around your neck, squeezing as he dangles you over the edge of the bridge. “GET ME LEONARD SNART AND I WON’T KILL THIS TEACHER!” Sam yells.

Barry snarls, listening to Singh try to reason with the meta. Is it just adrenaline or is his heart beating really fast? He hears a loud gasp come out of you and suddenly everything is happening in slow motion. As Sam lets go of your neck, there’s panicked shouts, people closing their eyes; Barry’s legs start vibrating.

His speed! It’s coming back! He bolts to the bridge, red converse splashing on the icy water as he scoops you in his arms, zipping towards the forest. And… shit, he can’t feel his legs again. He curls you into his chest, tumbling forward; thin navy jacket hitting the mulch in a thud. His breathing matches yours; hitched and uneven, but his heartbeat feels like a hummingbird.

Swallowing, Barry strokes your hair, glancing around, making sure nobody is here with you. He did it. “Shh, babe, I’m here, I’m here. I have you. You’re safe, you’re safe…” he mumbles in your hair, hands clutching your dirty tan dress. His lips pucker against your skull, leaving a trail of kisses in your messy locks.

You stare up at him, mouth open, “H-how-”

“I don’t know, I don’t know.” he repeats, cradling your head in his palm, rocking his upper body back and forth.

 

*TIME SKIP*

 

Caitlin listens to the former speedsters heartbeat through her stethoscope, sighing as she removes the plastic from her ears. “Your heart’s like any normal human’s, Barry. I’m not sure what happened, but…” she trails off, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I’m not getting any signs of the speed force in my results.” she mumbles, heels clicking while she bends over the desk.

Shaking his head, Barry glances at you, then at Caitlin, hand squeezing yours. “No, Cait, I ran. I got out of my chair and ran. Not even normal running. My legs…” he peers down at his dark blue jeans, “They were vibrating and-and next thing I know… I saved Y/N, th-then they just…gave out on me.” he explains, eyebrows crinkling in confusion.

“Maybe it was the spur of the moment?” Cisco offers, shifting his back against the metal desk. You cock an eyebrow, which he takes as a request for an explanation. “Okay, so, you really love Y/N; like, really love her, right?” Barry nods, crossing his arms over his chest, a pout forming on his lower lip. “Maybe, now I’m just spitballing here, but maybe, seeing her in danger, triggered some kind of chemical in your body, giving you a shock of the speed force. Like, not the full thing but…” the engineer trails off, waving his hand around.

“Like a sample?” you question, bending your neck slightly. Cisco snaps his fingers, nodding, his purple button down swaying against his graphic tee. “So… do you think it can happen again?” You squat next to Barry, shooting him a quick glance before focusing back on the engineer. This is insane.

Cisco shrugs, silently asking for Caitlin’s help. She brushes her tinted red hair from her brown eyes, biting her lip. “We can’t be sure, since the tests all came back negative and neither one of us were there when it happened.” she explains in a small voice, “If anything like this happens again, tell us immediately.”

Nodding, Barry curls his hand around the joystick, “Thanks guys. I… yeah, thanks.” he mumbles, rolling his chair out the doorway. So he still has his speed…he just needs a way to tap into it; to access it. He feels a familiar hand run across his upper back, snapping him from his own brain. “Baby, I-”

When his cheek tingles, he turns his head, capturing your lips in his. It’s short but full of love. “That was for saving me…my hero.” you smile against his mouth. Barry’s your hero? He can live with that.


End file.
